


The Language of Flowers

by Isscha



Series: 30 Days of Flash Fiction 2018 [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Language of Flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-17 01:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16506950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isscha/pseuds/Isscha
Summary: Everyone knows they’re dating.   See, Harry’s a bit of an exhibitionist.  Contains a persistent Pansy, a clueless Hermione, a friendship between two unlikely boys, and the relationship Hogwarts all saw coming from the start.





	The Language of Flowers

“I really wish they would use their room.”  Ron mutters as he takes Blaise’s last bishop with his knight.  “They have one. Together.” He says this loud enough to make it obvious it’s for the couple making out on couch in center of the Eighth Year common room.  Harry just flips Ron the finger without removing a single bit of himself from Malfoy - no, he’s Draco now, Ron reminds himself. He brushes away a stray flower petal from the board and leans back to watch what the Slytherin boy will do.

 

Blaise just snorts and shifts his queen to put Ron’s king in check.  He curses under his breath and rearranges his plans in his mind. Of course Blaise would move the one piece Ron was certain he would leave alone.  “Please, you have Potter who is constantly in the limelight because he’s the saviour and all that rot, and you have Draco who is constantly in the limelight because he wants to be there.  

 

The muffled sound of a zip has Ron turning and chucking one of his pawns at Harry’s head as hard as he can.  “Oi! Not in the common room. Make out all you want out here, but keep that shite in your room!”

 

The sounds they make when Harry wrenches himself from Draco are obscene and Ron cringes.  Blaise snickers, though if it’s at his expression or at the disgusting sounds he doesn’t know.  “Just because you aren’t getting any…” Harry says with a little half smirk and Ron wants to hex it off his face.

 

“Not that you know of.”  He wasn’t getting any, but he wasn’t about to admit it to the horniest couple on campus.  Plus, Hermione and Pansy were within earshot cooing over flowers or some shite and the last thing he needed was their meddlesome ways interfering in his lack of a love life.

 

Harry just laughs and Ron wants to feel offended, but can’t muster up the energy.  He just scowls at his best mate as he and Draco pass by his and Blaise’s game, which he’ll lose if he can’t start to focus soon.  “Knight to H3.”

 

The game continues for a couple more turns and then Ron sees it.  He can win if Blaise moves his bishop over to take his pawn, leaving him open to...

 

Blaise’s nose starts to wrinkle and he narrows his eyes as he scans the board in almost desperation.  He takes the pawn Ron was hoping he would, and Ron has to hold back his whoop of delight.

 

He feels rather smug now.  He’s going to win in two more turns and it’s apparent that his roommate knows it.  Blaise lets out an overly dramatic sigh of despair and throws himself back in the armchair.  “I abdicate.” He declares and holds out his hand for Ron to shake. “Again?”

 

He feels himself grin and marvels at the easy friendship that he and Blaise have formed over the school year.  He never thought he could feel this comfortable around Slytherins, but here they are barely into February and he can’t imagine his life without Draco’s snarky additions to his and Harry’s discussions, Parkinson’s ability to pull Hermione from her studies and have some fun for once, and Blaise, well.

 

Blaise is an amazing roommate.  The first night back in school, Ron had had a nightmare that had left him sobbing and shaking violently.  Blaise had silently moved over to his side of the room and slid onto the bed with him. The only words that were passed that night were “it’s okay, I understand.”

 

Much like the troll first year, you can’t go through nights of nightmares and PTSD episodes with someone and not come out closer.

 

~~*~*~~

 

She’s not sure when it started.  When the small group of returning students there to finish their interrupted seventh year had all arrived at their rooms, she and Hermione had exchanged suspicious looks and silently readied for bed.  What followed was the most awkward week Pansy had ever had whilst in school. Then, something changed that first weekend.

 

If she had to pinpoint a moment her feelings about the Muggleborn witch changed from hostile to intrigued it would be that Friday night when as Hermione was leaving the room, she hesitated and asked if Pansy wanted to join her in the library to study their charms homework.  She says that moment because it she actually said yes and joined her.

 

It’s been a whirlwind for the pure blooded witch, to have all her prejudices thrown back in her face.  Not by words or anything Hermione has done on purpose, but just by Hermione being her everyday self. It’s been easy for her to move from intrigue to tolerance, to friendship and then crushing and crushing hard.  Every little thing the other girl does is just one more point in favor of allowing herself to fall for her. Even if her father blasts her off the tapestry for it, she knows now that she wants to be with Hermione.

 

She spent all of January trying to find ways to let Hermione know just how she’s feeling, but it always seems that someone or something distracts from the conversation.  A first year actually hit the window during a flying lesson during one of the attempts and she nearly wet herself laughing hysterically at the expression on both the tiny eleven year old’s face and Hermione’s.  

 

A week ago, the idea jumped out at her and she nearly slapped herself for not having thought of it sooner.  She started to leave single stemmed flowers of a variety of types and colors, each with its own meaning. If Hermione saves each one, Pansy knows that the final product will lay out her soul bare and she’s both hopeful and terrified at the same time.  

 

The bouquet is full of flowers that say what Pansy cannot.  Or, at least they would if Hermione would look past the scientific names and the properties that make them valuable in potions she tosses in with her delight in receiving a flower each day the last month.  “Darling, I understand that you have potions on the brain since we just had that horrible exam today, but can you please not right now?”

 

Hermione looks startled and Pansy winces a bit.  She hadn’t meant to sound quite that harsh, but she has been trying to confess to the other witch that she has not-so-platonic feelings for her and would like to start acting upon them to rival the current reigning make-out champions of Hogwarts.

 

The startled look turns soft rather quickly and Hermione’s brown eyes flick between the flowers and Pansy and she wonders what the bookish girl is thinking.  She thinks she chose a very lovely collection of flowers and hopes that she hasn’t been too subtle.

 

As a slow smile spreads across Hermione’s face, Pansy finds an answering one forming on her own.  “Carnations.” Hermione says softly, little crinkles forming at the corners of her eyes as a gentle smile settles in place.  She’s reciting the meanings of the individual colors of each flower in the order Pansy had given them to her, and Pansy can feel herself falling more in love with each sentence.  “White to represent a strong and sincere friendship. Red, representing passion. Pink is rather the same.” She gently touches the petals of each flower as she names it.

 

Pansy wishes those gentle fingers were on her face.  “What about the lilies?” She asks breathlessly, suddenly desperate to hear her say it out loud.

 

Hermione obliges with a widening smile.  “Pink for our youth and joyful natures, purple for seduction, red again for passion, yellow for happiness in love.”  The brown in her eyes are warm like melted chocolate and Pansy wonders if Hermione isn’t as clueless about her advances as she thinks.

 

The Slytherin girl leans forward in her chair, her heart lit on fire with the expression Hermione is currently aiming her direction.  She’s about to say something, probably something horrifically embarrassing knowing her, when Ron squacks indignantly from the chess game on the other side of the room.  Amused, the two girls watch as Harry and Draco peel themselves away from each other long enough to sashay their way towards the dorm hallway.

 

Draco pauses on his way and Harry stops with him.  Pansy flushes under Draco’s knowing gaze as he looks between her and the flowers.  Harry looks far more knowing than she feels he should be, and she settles for her meanest scowl that seems to have absolutely no effect.  

 

Of course, he’s dating the most dramatic drama queen in Hogwarts history, so it makes sense that Harry is immune to any other tempers. It also doesn’t help that the two are already back to sucking face and she kicks Draco’s shin to get him to actually make it into their room before they remove clothing this time.

 

She does not want a repeat of last weekend.  She never wants to see that much of either Draco or Potter ever again. Once satisfied the pair is sequestered in their room, she turns her attention back to her love.  She knows very well what the last flowers represent. She broke tradition this morning and gave her a trio of flowers tied with a simple thin white ribbon - white, pink, and yellow daisies.  She knows that the three together are very nearly a proposal of themselves, though she doesn’t mean it quite that dramatically, and wills herself to not sweat at the fear that she’s about to be painfully rejected.  She can handle a gentle rejection.

 

 _Oh, please let me down gently._  She silently pleads as she frantically tries to read what Hermione is thinking right now as she’s staring at the little trio of flowers.  

 

“Do you mean this?”  Hermione asks softly, her eyes still fixed on the flowers, and Pansy desperately wishes she’d look up at her so she could better see what she’s thinking.  

 

She swallows her pride and nods.  “As long as you wish it, I’ll be yours.”

 

Hermione doesn’t say anything right away, and the moment stretches into an eternity squeezed into a heartbeat.  

 

“Yes.”  In a fluid motion, Hermione is out of her seat and pulling Pansy up to her and her heart starts again when she feels gentle lips on hers.  

 

Let life try and tear them apart now that Hermione is hers.  She’s a Parkinson, and a Parkinson fights for what is theirs.

 

~~*~*~~

 

“Oh you are brilliant.”  Draco moans, letting his head thump against the just closed door to their room.  Harry presses kisses down his chest as he unbuttons the pearl buttons of his dark grey cashmere cardigan.  “Can we move this to the bed, please?”

 

Harry wordlessly backs until he hits the edge of Draco’s bed and pulls him on top.  “Just a couple more kisses and then we can work on our essay for Slughorn.”

 

Teasing lips pry his open and he accepts Draco instantly, melting into the bed as his boyfriend artfully tears him apart with his touch.  “You really do get off on people watching us.” He says when his hand brushes Harry’s hardness and he lets out a embarrassingly needy whine.  

 

“So what?”  Harry is trying for nonchalant, but he knows he’s failing.  He’s never been good at masking any of his feelings, and he’s not sure why he keeps trying.  “I want them to remember that you’re off limits now.”

 

“Oh please, Potter.  As if they could forget.”  Draco waves a careless hand and strokes Harry’s hair gently.  Harry has to resist the urge to purr and press into the hand and instead just grins up at his boyfriend.  “If we get off now, we can do homework later?”

 

“Or, I have a better idea.”  Harry reaches over and pulls out the currently blank Marauders map.  “I’ve been meaning to show you this.”

 

Draco shifts to allow Harry to sit up and he taps the parchment, muttering “I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good.”

 

The map suddenly blooms to life and Harry grins at Draco’s delighted gasp at the intricacies of the magics involved.  “Oh, no wonder you knew exactly where I was all the time sixth year!” He whispers, gently caressing where their footsteps are huddled in their dorm room.  

 

Harry traces a path from where they are in the abandoned classroom wing turned Eighth Year dorms to one of his favorite of Hogwarts secret passageways.  It’s secluded enough that no one can see them, but the acoustics of the hall make every sound carry and he tries to keep the wicked smirk from exposing his devious thoughts.  

 

Draco, however, is not an idiot.  “This isn’t just another excuse for everyone to hear you moaning, is it?”

 

“More like hear you.”  He quips back with an eyebrow wiggle as his hands circle Draco’s waist.  He leans in like he’s going to kiss his boyfriend, and when Draco is nearly touching him, he twists so they both fall on the floor with a thump and twin gasping groans.  “I didn’t think that one through very well.”

 

“Obviously.”  Draco says dryly, and pulls himself up off the floor as Harry does the same.  “Come on, we have an exibitiionist’s passageway to find and makeout in.”

 

“A man after my own heart.”  Harry presses a hand to his chest and flutters his eyes at Draco who shoves at his shoulder.  As they pass through the common room unhindered, Harry smiles while watching the gentle sway of Draco’s hips as he walks.  If things go to his plan, they’re going to do far more than simply makeout and he can’t wait.

~~*~*~~

End

~~*~*~~

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3 Prompt: The language of flowers, pajamas, a secret passageway
> 
> Unbeta'd. Doing this for fun. Don't own.
> 
> Etc, etc, etc.
> 
> The 30 Days of Flash Fiction 2018 collection is a collection of one shot flash fictions that are not connected in any fashion. Many will feature Drarry, as well as a variety of other pairings throughout their friends. I aim to post a story daily, though I only promise that I will post all 30 stories at some point - not that I will post them in exactly 30 days. Some stories will be short, some will be long, it all depends on how I respond to the prompt on a particular day.


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